


I Don't Want to be Your Friend

by Brambleshadow_of_WindClan



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e02 The Shakespeare Code, Gen, Song: "I Don't Want to Be Your Friend" by Pat Benatar, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Am I gone from your thoughts? Forgotten somehow? When you lie there with her does my memory stir any part of you now? I know that I should concede, face the truth and all that. I know I should realize I’m not part of your life anymore, but I can’t.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want to be Your Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Based off "I Don't Want to be Your Friend (I Just Want to Be Your Lover)" by Pat Benatar. Messes around a bit with the series three episode "The Shakespeare Code" because, really, that was the only logical place in series three to place Rose. Though in this case I guess she's maybe more Bad Wolf!Rose Tyler. And because I don't want to mess with series four too much, well, I'll leave that up to you lot to find out.
> 
> And, well, call me crazy but this song just fits _so well_ with that episode.
> 
> Cheers.

_Did you see me last night?  
I was there in the dark.  
I saw her look at you  
The way I used to do  
When I still had your heart._

Rose, hidden back in the shadows, felt her heart clench as she saw the Doctor walking down the crowded London street with his new companion: a pretty, dark-skinned woman a few years older than Rose. Upper-middle class, too, judging from her clothing. Martha Jones, she’d heard him call her.

_Doctor._ Rose took a step forward, the name on the tip of her tongue. It died when she took in the look on Martha’s face, one full of adoration and longing. A smile was on her face like she was inwardly laughing at something _he_ ’d told her.

 _He’s mine! Leave him alone!_ Rose leaned forward, one arm braced on the brick wall of the alley, and her foot hit an empty rubbish bin. The resulting noise had her darting back into the shadows just as the Doctor whipped his head round. His brown eyes were wild, haunted, as he searched the shadows.

Was he looking for her?

Part of her was pleasantly surprised at the thought, while another part was torn. How could she have known what her being trapped in the parallel universe had done to him?

His expression was hopeful, expectant, cautious, and full of longing all at once. How he could feel all that, show it, and not go mad she had no idea.

Maybe he had. Maybe the only reason he had Martha as a new companion was to keep him somewhat sane, to stop him before he went too far. Rose had had to do it herself, especially when she’d first encountered a Dalek in Henry Van Statten’s museum.

She still didn’t like the way Martha was eyeing the Doctor, though.

The Time Lord took a step in her direction, and Rose wondered just how well he could see in the dark. His lips moved, and she swore she heard him from fifteen meters away:

_“Rose . . .”_

 

Slowly, oh so slowly, she inched forward until she was partly out of the shadows.

Then Martha stopped walking, looked back, and called after the Doctor. He didn’t move; he was still staring at Rose, eyes wide. Martha gave him a hard look and called his name again. Reluctantly, he turned away and followed his new companion.

Rose wasn’t sure how long she would be here, but while she was in her home universe she might as well keep an eye on them.

She tried to tell herself it was because she wanted to protect the Doctor and not because she was jealous of Martha—Rose had run with him first, after all.

But she was a horrible liar and couldn’t even lie to herself.

Silent as a cat (but not a cat-nun), she detached herself from the alley and padded after the Time Lord and his human companion.

Just who was Martha Jones, anyway? It was clear to Rose that the other woman either had a huge crush on or was in love with the Doctor, but it didn’t seem as if he noticed. As they walked down the street the Doctor wouldn’t take Martha’s hand. Every so often he would look back over his shoulder, and each time Rose had to duck for cover.

This was so weird, even for her. Mickey had said something about it in a similar situation to the Doctor: _“The missus and the ex. Every man’s worst nightmare.”_

But she _wasn’t_ the Doctor’s ex. . . .

 _I don’t want to be your friend,_ Rose thought. _I just want to be your lover. I don’t think I can pretend that you mean nothing to me. It’s hard enough to say goodbye even when you know it’s over. I don’t want to be your friend—I want to be your lover. Hang on, is that Pat Benatar? Ah well, it fits._

The Doctor and Martha turned a corner, and she lost sight of them. Only then did she get a look at their surroundings: 15th, 16th century, maybe London, possibly Cardiff. Then she saw the Globe Theatre in the distance and smiled. Figured, since they’d already met Charles Dickens. That had been fun. Okay, so the Gelth had been terrifying and she could have gone without the mortician copping a feel, but otherwise it had been fun. The way the Doctor had looked at her when she stepped out of the wardrobe room in that dress . . .

How much longer did she have before she was pulled back across? Not much, she didn’t think.

Rose wanted more than anything to be reunited with the Doctor, but . . . somehow, she didn’t think Martha would appreciate her showing up out of the blue like this.

Where were those two, anyway?

And why did she care what Martha thought? Just from watching her body language it was clear the other woman felt like nothing more than a rebound.

The Doctor _had_ kept sneaking glances back at her once he knew she was there . . .

Why was it so hard for them to say . . . ? (But he had. He’d burned up a sun to do it.)

More to the point, why was she still standing out here in the street? She could at least find the TARDIS. Rose still had her key, which lit up when the TARDIS was nearby and powered up. Hopefully the timeship remembered her.

-oOo-

As they walked to the building they were staying in, the Doctor’s head was reeling. There was no way he’d seen Rose; he couldn’t have. She was trapped in Pete’s World; the walls of reality had sealed, closed off.

Were his feelings for her so strong he was conjuring up her ghost?

 _Appropriate word choice, “conjuring,” seeing as it looked like that man died because of witchcraft,_ he thought. _But that_ couldn’t _be Rose. She’s gone. Forever._

He was aware of a conversation with Shakespeare, but to be honest he wasn’t really paying much attention. When Martha made the decision to tuck in, he followed soon after with a, _“Nighty-night, Shakespeare.”_

 _If_ that was Rose (and he wasn’t saying it was), how had she gotten across the Void without her mind being torn to shreds? Anyone who crossed through without protection would go completely mad. (But Rose had seen the whole of time and space, had used that power to destroy the Daleks and restore Captain Jack . . . and it had nearly killed her.) Besides, the dimension jumpers the parallel Torchwood had developed tore holes in the fabric of reality. So if Rose _was_ actually appearing to him . . . 

“So, magic and stuff. That’s a surprise. It’s all a bit Harry Potter, isn’t it?” Martha’s voice broke into his reverie. Startled, he sat up on the bed—When had he settled down there?—and said, “Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried.”

“But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that’s _real_?”

“Course it isn’t,” the Doctor scoffed. Secretly, he was glad she’d gotten him talking; it would take his mind off Rose, if only for a moment.

“Well, how am I supposed to know? I’ve just started believing in time travel; gimme a break.” Her voice at the end was a little bit of a laugh.

“Looks like witchcraft but it isn’t. Can’t be.” He noticed Martha was still in front of him. “Are you going to stand there all night?”

Martha somehow managed to look startled, flustered, and affronted all at once. She set the candle on the table next to the bed. “Move over, then.”

He did. He was aware of her talking but wasn’t paying much attention.

_Am I gone from your thoughts?  
Forgotten somehow?  
When you lie there with her  
Does my memory stir any part of you now?  
I know that I should concede, face the truth and all that.  
I know I should realize I’m not part of your life anymore,  
But I can’t._

He rattled off some technobabble, then turned onto his side so he was facing her. “There’s something I’m missing, Martha,” he said quietly. “Something really close staring me right in the face, and I can’t see it. Rose would know. A friend of mine, Rose, right now she’d say exactly the right thing. Still. Can’t be helped. You’re a novice, never mind. Take you back home tomorrow.”

He missed the way Martha’s face turned stony, but he heard her disgruntled “Great” as she turned and blew out the candle with a huff.

He’d meant it, though. One trip, one trip only, and then back home. He couldn’t afford to get close to another companion, not after . . . 

_Rose . . ._

If she could see him now, what would she think? Would she think he’d given up on her? But he hadn’t. He would find a way back to her. He had to.

She was all that kept him going. He’d wasted too many chances already to tell her that he lo—

Even now he couldn’t think it, let alone say it out loud.

He really was a coward.

-oOo-

Relief flooded Rose when she saw the familiar sturdy blue shape of the TARDIS. Her step quickened as she neared the old girl until she was running. Rose neatly dodged a puddle of waste and inserted her key into the lock. The door opened, and she stepped inside.

Her eyes swept around the console room. Nothing had changed, except . . . Was that Martha’s jacket draped over the yellow jump seat?

Jealousy reared its ugly head. “I was here first,” Rose muttered. She walked up the metal ramp to the console, let her fingers trail over the controls. There was a familiar gentle hum in the back of her mind, and a small smile graced her features as she realized it was the TARDIS.

“Hello, old girl,” she said. “Miss me?”

Warmth flared inside her head, which Rose took as a yes.

It had been so long since she’d been here . .. Where should she go first?

Suddenly she was filled with the desire to see if anything in her room had changed. Rose made her way down the familiar passageways.

She knew she should accept that she wasn’t part of the Doctor’s life anymore, but she just couldn’t.

It didn’t take long before she was standing in front of her bedroom door. Rose curved her hand around the doorknob, twisted, and pushed it open.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but her bed looking as if it had recently been slept in while everything else was untouched certainly wasn’t it. Rose moved silently forward, picked up one of the pillows, and raised it to her nose. Almost instantly she identified the Doctor’s scent.

 _I don’t know if that’s sad or creepy,_ Rose thought. On one hand, the thought of the Doctor coming here to mourn and feel close to her was heartbreaking. On the other, this was where her scent was the strongest, and who knew what condition the sheets were in?

Traveling between dimensions was starting to take its toll, and it was late at night. Rose’s eyes, suddenly heavy with fatigue, closed. Her body landed on the soft sheets milliseconds later and refused to move.

-oOo-

The Doctor glared angrily up from Martha’s prone form at Lilith, the Carrionite who had just demonstrated the power-of-a-name spell on his new companion. His brown eyes blazed.

“Only sleeping, alas,” Lilith said, lowering her finger. “It’s curious. Her name has less impact. She’s somehow out of her time. As for you, Sir Doctor . . .” She raised her hand again, pointing a taloned finger at him. At a loss, she paused. “Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look, there’s still one word with the power of the days.”

“That’s not going to work on me,” the Doctor growled.

“But your heart grows cold./ The north wind blows,/And carries down the distant . . . Rose?” Lilith smiled, tilting her head.

The Doctor leaped to his feet, strode toward her. “Oooh, big mistake! Because that name keeps me fighting!”

_And when I think I’ve had enough  
And I just can’t stand the pain,  
I reminisce about the way  
It felt to have you every day.  
You know that every time I hear your voice  
I still get a thrill. . . .  
And there’s nothing I can do about it._

Rose had been asleep, dreaming about her travels with the Doctor, when she suddenly landed hard on a wooden floor. Her brow furrowed and she let out a moan at having her sleep disturbed. Almost defiantly, she slipped back into dreamland.

But there was a voice calling her . . .

“Rose? Rose, wake up. _Rose, please_ . . .”

She stirred, reluctantly opened her eyes. Rose knew that voice, knew who the speaker was even before her gaze settled on him, and she couldn’t stop the thrill that raced through her at the sound of his voice.

It had been so long . . . 

Her eyes landed on the Doctor. “Hello,” she said softly.

He smiled. “Hello,” he replied. The warm look in his eyes froze and hardened as he glared back up at the Carrionite. “How did you bring her here?”

“I named her.” Lilith shrugged.

“But she was in a parallel universe!”

“No I wasn’t. I was sleeping in the TARDIS,” Rose said, lifting herself into a sitting position, her legs curled beneath her.

“How?”

“Dunno. Dimension Cannon prototype, I think. Either that or Bad Wolf. I’m not entirely sure.” A sudden noise made her look back. “Doctor, she’s getting away!”

The two of them leaped to their feet and lunged toward Lilith, who floated in the air outside the open window.

“Oh, that’s just cheating,” the Doctor and Rose said in unison.

Lilith flashed them a simpering smile, leaned forward, and ran a hand through the Doctor’s hair. A growl rose in Rose’s throat, one she didn’t bother holding back.

“You might want to control your little wolf there, Doctor,” Lilith told the Time Lord, her voice a caress. Her hold on his hair tightened, and when she removed her hand there was a swatch of brown hair clenched between her fingers. In her other hand was a small device; a doll, maybe?

“Now, you may call that magic; I call that a DNA replication module!”

“What good is your science now?” Lilith wrapped the hairs around the doll, then drove a needle through where its heart should be. The Doctor instantly collapsed on the floor. Lilith, cackling, flew away, easily dodging Rose as the blonde made a swing at her.

Seething, Rose dropped to the floor beside the Doctor. “Oh no you don’t,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m not losing you again, you stupid alien git.” She was so focused on the Doctor that she’d forgotten about the other woman, Martha, until the doctor-in-training was right beside her trying to perform CPR.

“He’s got two hearts,” Rose reminded her. “Who are you? New companion?”

Martha stopped and looked at her. “I’m Martha Jones. Now, who the hell are you?”

“Rose. Rose Tyler. And I’m really not supposed to be here, not yet.”

Martha’s eyes widened. “Ohmigod, you found him! He never shuts up about you, you know.” Judging from the bitter note in her voice, Rose figured her previous assumption was right: Martha felt like a rebound. It was also clear that Martha had a crush on the Doctor, but he didn’t return her feelings. That didn’t stop her from attempting to perform CPR, though. Then she stopped and sat back. “Hang on, mister,” Martha drawled.

The Doctor’s eyes snapped open, and he rolled to his feet. Suddenly he bent over, hand clutching at his chest. “Agh, she stopped one of my hearts working. Hit my chest.” She did. “Other side.” This time she whacked the left side of his chest, and the Doctor dropped to his knees. “My back.” Martha’s fists came down hard. Rose couldn’t stop the small smile from forming as he popped the muscles in his neck, got to his feet, looked at Martha, and cried, “Ba-da-BOOM-ba!” Then the Doctor was heading for the door, Martha a few steps behind him. She kept going when the Time Lord stopped suddenly and looked back at Rose, who smiled and waved.

Going from the horrified look on his face, she was already fading.

“I’ll find you,” she promised him, her voice sounding not quite like her own. She had no way of knowing her brown eyes were flaring with specks of gold, that this was Bad Wolf speaking. “My Doctor.”

“Rose.” His voice was broken, eyes were desperate as he reached for her. “I lo—”

But she was already gone, and he never could say the words.

_I don’t want to be your friend.  
I want to be your . . ._


End file.
